


Complications in Cyberspace

by stalrua



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Chat Room Ridiculousness, Dating Advice, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalrua/pseuds/stalrua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane despises any form of communication that includes a keyboard, a screen, or a battery. So why does she keep going back to the same chat room to talk to the same guy after a one-time dare from Darcy? All bets are off... because with a name like youweremadetoberuled, she's not sure what to expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: What follows is the result of consuming too many chocolate chip cookies too late at night and being stuck in that strange place between 'God, I just want to sleep' and 'I have become a zombie-like insomniac'. I'd apologize for the resulting piece of work, but I'd be lying. So… sorry not sorry.
> 
> Response to magic-n-science tumblr prompt #62.
> 
> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.

Just do it, she'd said.

It'll be fun, she'd said.

Apparently, Darcy should consider a career in politics because she was either a very accomplished liar or was so deluded that she actually believed what she said.

Either way, her suggestion had led Jane to nothing but trouble.

Before leaving work, she'd had every intention of going home, eating something incredibly unhealthy (probably stuffed crust pepperoni pizza), watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory, eating something else incredibly unhealthy (probably mint chocolate chip ice cream), and collapsing into her downy soft, pillow top, six hundred thread count sheet-covered mattress to enjoy a blissful night of sleep.

Instead, she was logged into a potentially regrettable, undoubtedly questionable, and obviously pervert-filled chat room of Darcy's choosing, talking to some creep with an equally regrettable, questionable, and pervert-implying name.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Why would you want to close out the session?

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Why wouldn't I?

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ We're only having a conversation. There's little harm in that.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Your screen name makes me think you're either a child predator, a stalker, someone with a penchant for dominatrix-esque activities, or a detective pretending to be one of the above. Unless, of course, you're all of the above.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Completely wrong on three out of four counts and partially wrong on the fourth. I am not, and have never been, a child predator, a stalker, someone with a penchant for dominatrix-esque activities, or a detective. But I can't say I've never pretended to be someone else.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Which only makes me want to close this session even more.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Didn't anyone ever tell you that a little intrigue can sometimes make for a more interesting time?

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Yes… the police on the evening news as they arrested a man for stalking minors in online chat rooms.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Very funny. Tell me, are you a minor?

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Wouldn't you like to know? I may not be a regular, but even I know not to give out any identifying information. Nice try, though.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ You're not.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Oh, really? What makes you think that?

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Is proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation reason enough?

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ No.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ A lucky guess, then.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Yeah right…

Jane stared at the screen, waiting for the ellipses that signaled her creepy chat room companion's impending response to appear. But there was nothing. She cracked her knuckles, stretched from side to side, finished her glass of tea. But there was nothing. She even took a bathroom break. But when she came back… there was nothing.

And the longer there was figurative silence from the opposite end of the internet, the more Jane started to wonder how it was that he knew she was an adult. Sure, using proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation wasn't exactly the norm in online interactions (it hadn't taken her long to realize that after logging on), but it shouldn't be a dead giveaway. Teenagers couldn't be that incapable of forming complete sentences.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Really, what makes you so sure? For all you know, I could be a fourteen year old with braces, a bad case of acne, and nothing better to do on a Friday night than tease sleazy men online. Where's your proof?

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man's desire to understand.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Neil Armstrong said that. Are you saying you want to understand me?

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ One may say the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ And Albert Einstein said that. Stop trying to impress me by using other people's quotes.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Therein lies the proof that you are not a minor.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ What?

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ No minor would ever be able to recognize who said those quotes.

Jane's fingers froze above the keyboard for a second. Two seconds. Three seconds. More seconds than she cared to count because it seemed far more important to be preoccupied with being upset. Damn it, she shouldn't have said anything. Curse her unfailing tendency to spout off random bits of knowledge (even if he had been the one to spout off the random quotes first).

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ You're annoying…

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ And frustrating…

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Mark Twain.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ You know, the more you talk, the more you sound like a fortune cookie.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ And like a fortune cookie, all of these enlightening quotes are free of charge.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ How very generous of you. I could always use a good citation from a nineteenth century author in my life to remind me not to get too frustrated with strangers online.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Always glad to help.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Fortune cookies only come free after a paid meal, by the way.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Unless you steal them.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ So now you're a thief, too.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ More like a procurer of other people's misplaced objects.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ I didn't know Chinese restaurants were in the habit of misplacing their fortune cookies.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ You'd be surprised.

The bright computer screen illuminated her face, but when Jane looked up to see that the world beyond her chat room bubble had transitioned into night and that the rest of her house was dark, she decided to wrap it up. She may have missed out on The Big Bang Theory and mint chocolate chip ice cream, but at least her stomach was full of stuffed crust pizza while her mind excitedly calculated the exact softness of her bed.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Well, this has been… I'd say fun but the fingernail-shaped gouges on my keyboard contradict that statement.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Entertaining? Amusing? Enlightening?

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Pointless seems a little more accurate.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ I'd have to disagree. At the very least, we exercised a miniature quiz of sorts. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to show up in this chat room that knew those quotes.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Even if that were true (and if it is, that's kind of sad), this was still not how I was planning on spending my Friday night.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ I think you enjoyed it. Secretly.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ I think not.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Just a suggestion before I go… you really should change your screen name. It's kind of off-putting. Unless you're looking for the type of girl that's turned on by that, of course.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Duly noted. I'll change it before the next time we talk.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ That's great and all, but there won't be a next time. I have no intention of coming back to this chat room again; or any other chat room, for that matter. The only reason I'm here now is because my friend talked me into it.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Thank your friend for me, would you?

Jane sighed. Thanking Darcy for introducing her to the headache-inducing world of chat rooms was about as unlikely as her returning to it of her own accord. In fact, it would probably be better if she didn't even admit that she'd followed through with Darcy's suggestion in the first place. It would be like tossing a bucket of chum into the ocean. Jane would be the defenseless bucket of chum and Darcy, the prowling shark that smelled blood. Not quite so disgusting in real life (why couldn't she come up with a better analogy?), but the general idea was the same.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Anyway, I have a feeling you'll be back.

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ Don't hold your breath.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ So, until we meet again…

 _theuniverseiscalling:_ We won't.

 _youweremadetoberuled:_ Good night.

But before she could reply with either another denial or a genial good night (she hadn't quite decided yet), the area to the right of the box that held their conversation blinked, the hyperlink of his name turning grey to signal that he'd logged out.

For a moment, she sat there and stared at the remnants of their exchange. The bizarrely cocky name didn't surprise her… but the surprising knowledge and annoyingly perceptive yet witty comments were observations that didn't seem to fit in with any of her pre-conceived notions of what to expect.

Still, surprised or not, she wouldn't go back.

Jane closed out of all running programs, shut the laptop, and made a beeline for her bedroom and the deliciously welcoming bed it contained, all the while listing out the logical reasons for avoiding sketchy online chat rooms and the sketchy people they contained.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another late night, another round of dessert (this time it was double fudge brownies). This is what I do on my vacations from work… stay up late, eat, and write. I'll have to actually go out tonight to remind myself that I have a life.
> 
> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.

Jane had a problem.

Like, a serious problem.

The kind of problem that people usually needed to go see therapists or psychologists or psychiatrists or sociologists or basically someone ( _anyone_ ) with a professional degree about.

But then, trying to explain how the part of her brain that utilized common sense and a logical capacity for reasoning was in some way disconnected from the rest of her thought process would be somewhat embarrassing and would most likely get her dismissed without receiving any bit of help.

Which she obviously needed.

Because why else would she be sitting on the couch, staring at a computer screen, and filling out the login information it displayed for the same chat room she'd visited a week ago?

Maybe she could rationalize the whole situation by blaming it on Darcy. Jane blinked, the thought taking hold. Yes… Darcy was the one at fault. Because _she_ was the reason Jane had even gone to the chat room in the first place. And _she_ was the reason Jane had attempted to lie about going (the fact that she splendidly failed at it was beside the point). And she _was_ the reason Jane had gone back for a second torturous session.

Stupid Darcy and her stupid dares… and stupid Jane for being too proud (or maybe it wasn't so much a matter of pride than pure, unadulterated stupidity) to just walk away from Darcy's cool observation that Jane was too pure and innocent to handle going back just one more time.

That was why she needed a psychologist to help her, so she could learn how to accurately spot reverse psychology before she fell victim to it.

Chin resting in her cupped hands, Jane watched the activity of the main chat room progress and tried not to think about how sad it was that this was how she was spending another of her Friday nights. Why couldn't she have just ignored Darcy and gone upstairs to visit the delectable hunk of muscles and smiles that was Thor (who might possibly have asked her out to dinner, assuming the rumors that he was interested in her were true)?

_hotpopsicles has logged in._

_pokeherboy22 has logged out._

_runswithscissors has logged in._

_youwillalwayskneel has logged in._

Her fingers that had been drumming out an indistinct rhythm stilled as she watched the last name get lost in the mess of comments and notifications. If she didn't know any better, she would've said that one sounded like…

_youwillalwayskneel_ : It's always nice to see a familiar face. Figuratively speaking, of course.

_youwillalwayskneel_ : I thought you said you weren't planning on coming back.

The world condensed, narrowed from something of infinite cosmic proportions to something that contained nothing more than her wide eyes, her slack jaw, and the private conversation window that had popped up on the screen in front of her.

No.

No, no, no.

What were the odds? Honestly… _what_ _were the_ _odds_?

It was for reasons like this that she didn't gamble.

Jane should have chosen a different chat room. She should have chosen a screen name that had no relation whatsoever to the one she'd used last time. She should have been born possessing the ability to lie without developing a nervous twitch in her right eyebrow that was a dead giveaway so she could have lied to Darcy and said she went to a chat room without actually having gone there.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ How did you even know it was me?

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Another lucky guess.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ It's official… you creep me out. Are you stalking me?

_youwillalwayskneel:_ There's nothing to stalk when you return here so willingly.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ It's not willingly, believe me. Also, saying it like that doesn't exactly convince me of your non-creepiness.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Unless there's a person holding a firearm to your head and demanding you enter a chat room if you wish to remain alive, you came back willingly.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ I'd almost prefer someone force me. It would make it easier to rationalize that way.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ And I'm still not entirely convinced you're not some weirdo.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Is there anything I can do to convince you?

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Not really. I've already narrowed the possibilities down to two options.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Should I be preparing myself for something truly devastating?

_myfutureisinthestars:_ You're either a homicidal pervert that is striking up random conversations in the hopes that someone will give out enough information for you to find them and do all the horrible things that homicidal perverts do with their victims or you're just a disgusting old man with nothing better to do than haunt online hangouts.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ That was a harsh assessment.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Oh, I'm sorry… did I bruise your ego? That's a shame.

When she didn't receive an immediate response, Jane leaned back into the couch, feeling more than a little self-satisfied with her jab. But it was wishful thinking on her part to believe that she'd somehow manage to run him off with a little comment like that.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ So if you haven't done so willingly, what brings you back to this dubious little corner of the internet?

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Another dare.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ By the same friend as last time, I'm guessing.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Maybe.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Your friend is quickly becoming my friend.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Well, you'd probably like her; the two of you seem pretty similar.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ How so?

_myfutureisinthestars:_ You're both ridiculously annoying, for one.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ And yet the two of you are friends.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ They say opposites attract.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Does that also apply to me, then?

It was a bold suggestion (not to mention incredibly cheesy) and edged the conversation closer to territory she refused to participate in. Some of the comments she'd seen in the main chat room had been graphic, leaving little doubt to what went on in other private conversations that didn't include someone with an obvious power trip. Jane had no intentions of settling for online sex to make up for the significant lack thereof in her real life.

Her cursor hovered over the red 'X'. It would be smart to close out… and Jane was smart enough to know that it would be smart. But then, her lips quirked into a small smile of their own accord while the cursor slid over and clicked into the text box.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ I'm going to keep this session open and pretend you didn't just say that.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ By all means, pretend away.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ But you must know that I find you quite fascinating.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ I'm also going to ignore the disturbing nature of that statement considering you barely know me.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ It's beyond my control. Between your scathing wit, your stubborn denial of the merits of online chatting, and your penchant for using galactic-referencing screen names, you're winning me over bit by bit. Like you said, opposites attract.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Oh, wow… this is awkward. I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm currently seeing someone.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ That's nice. And potentially irrelevant. Have the two of you been together long?

Jane thought back to the few conversations she'd shared with Thor in the elevators at work, the time he'd descended from the seventeenth floor to visit her measly eighth floor cubicle, and the time they'd bumped into each other in the cafe down the street and sat down to finish their bagels and coffee together. She also thought about the fact that those had been the extent of their interactions.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Well, we're not technically together… but things are getting close. I probably could've gone out to dinner with him tonight.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ But you gave up the opportunity in favor of conversing with me.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ No, I didn't go with him because I was tired.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Either way, that's not the most efficient way of transitioning from mere friends to something more mutually beneficial.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ I didn't come here for dating advice.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ By the way, your screen name is still ridiculous. Are you sure you're not a dominatrix fiend?

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Quite sure.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ If nothing else, I'll always be able to tell when it's you.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ You say that like you're planning on returning.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ This may be a waste of time, but at least it doesn't require any thought. Sometimes my mind needs to take part in activities that are numbing and pointless.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ I'll take that as a compliment, backhanded as it was.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Underhanded compliments… yes, that was my intention. I'll have to save the rest of them for another time, though, because I should probably go.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Likewise. Best wishes for a relaxing, mind-numbing, pointless rest of your weekend. And best wishes on your endeavors with the potential significant other.

_myfutureisinthestars:_ You're beyond strange.

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Until we meet again…

_myfutureisinthestars:_ Are you going to say that every time?

_youwillalwayskneel:_ Good night.

For the second time in as many weeks, Jane watched the hyperlink of his screen name turn grey without her saying a proper goodbye. And for the second time in as many hours, she thought about how serious of a problem she had if she was even considering going back for a third time.

God, she needed therapy.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming… too long. Sorry for the wait, everyone. Thank you to everyone reviewing/favoriting/following so far, but a tremendous shout out to all the people that kept reminding me that I hadn’t updated. You are the reason this got done. I’ll do my absolute best not to wait three months before updating again!

_freefromfreedom:_ You’ve been particularly quiet tonight.

_sightsetonthesky:_ I don’t recall ever being chatty. Most of the time, I’m trying to figure out a way to end our conversations.

_freefromfreedom:_ Talkative, no. But if you didn’t want to talk at all, you wouldn’t be here.

In the growing darkness of her apartment, Jane frowned at the laptop screen. The only thing worse than being proved wrong was being proved wrong by a random stranger in a chat room, which only served to fortify what was quickly becoming the most important (and most mystifying) question in her life:

Why, why, why did she keep coming back?

The option for seeking professional help was still open, but the therapy she obviously needed was expensive and her bank account had more spider webs in it than actual cash. In the end, childish comebacks were the only weapons she could wield.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Shut up.

_freefromfreedom:_ So what, may I ask, is it that has you so preoccupied and snippy?

_sightsetonthesky:_ Do people even say snippy anymore?

_freefromfreedom:_ Yes.

_sightsetonthesky:_ It’s an old word… are you sure you’re not a creepy old man?

_freefromfreedom:_ Yes.

_sightsetonthesky:_ I’m still not entirely convinced.

_freefromfreedom:_ How unfortunate. Are you aware of how poorly executed your attempt at evasion was? It did nothing to sway my curiosity of why you’re particularly edgy this evening. If anything, it increased it.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Are you aware of how annoying you’re being by insisting we talk about this?

_freefromfreedom:_ Yes, but I’m well and truly interested. I suppose I’ll just have to guess. Let’s see… your parents are planning an ill-timed visit that will invade your personal space?

_sightsetonthesky:_ My parents are on a permanent staycation in another country. You invade my personal space more than they ever will.

_freefromfreedom:_ Your friend is trying to convince you to switch to a different chat room?

_sightsetonthesky:_ One entirely-too-nosy stranger is enough for me. I don’t need any more.

_freefromfreedom:_ The illicit affair you’ve been carrying on with a co-worker has recently come to light?

_sightsetonthesky:_ The only affair I’m currently having is with my pillow. I could spend all day in bed with it. Some days, I do.

_freefromfreedom:_ Ah…

Jane paused, fingers hovering above the keyboard. That wasn’t a good word. Ah was _never_ a good word. It didn’t matter that the expression only consisted of three dots, two letters, and one syllable. Anytime it was said, it meant a whole lot more than just a simple tone of observance.

_sightsetonthesky:_ I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking.

_freefromfreedom:_ I’ve figured it out.

_sightsetonthesky:_ No, I’m serious… I really don’t want to know.

_freefromfreedom:_ It’s the potential significant other.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Yep, I was right. Didn’t want to know.

_freefromfreedom:_ So when are you going to do it?

_sightsetonthesky:_ Excuse me?

_freefromfreedom:_ When are you going to actually speak to this guy you’ve been pining over? If it weren’t for the fact that all your interactions with him thus far had been so tragically dull, I’d almost believe you to be making him up.

_sightsetonthesky:_ One, I do not pine. Two, we’ve talked plenty. And three, none of those conversations were dull, thank you very much.

_freefromfreedom:_ And yet he remains the potential significant other.

_freefromfreedom:_ The key word there is potential.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Yeah, I got that.

As if she needed reminding. Feeling somewhat bitter, Jane took an especially large drink of wine. It was more gulp than sip, and when she set the glass down on the coffee table, she may or may not have done it so forcefully that a bit of the wine splashed out. She also may or may not have scowled at the laptop screen.

_sightsetonthesky:_ There are always people around when we talk. If it were just us, we’d probably be on a date right now. That’s probably the only reason he hasn’t asked me yet, because we haven’t had the chance to talk alone. I have it from a good source that he is genuinely interested in me.

_freefromfreedom:_ Well, he sounds like an idiot.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Says the guy that spends every Friday night lurking in a chat room. And anyway, you don’t know anything about him. Or me for that matter.

_freefromfreedom:_ I know enough about you to know I wouldn’t wait until we were alone to ask you on a date.

_sightsetonthesky:_ It’s disconcerting how many times I have to say that you don’t really know me.

_freefromfreedom:_ Details.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Yeah, those tend to be kind of important in a relationship.

_freefromfreedom:_ Important to which one, exactly? The nonexistent one with your mystery man or the virtual one we share here?

_sightsetonthesky:_ I’d hardly call what we have a relationship.

_freefromfreedom:_ I don’t see why not. We’ve met at roughly the same time every week for the past five weeks, we share banter like people that have known each other for years… if that’s not a relationship, how would you classify it?

_sightsetonthesky:_ Practice. You’re a constant test of my patience.

_freefromfreedom:_ Amusing, but we’re getting off topic. When do you plan to talk to him? Alone?

_sightsetonthesky:_ You seem awfully fixated on this.

_freefromfreedom:_ Only because you seem to be in desperate need of advice.

_sightsetonthesky:_ I’m talking to a dominatrix-loving, power-tripping, freedom-stealing stranger cum matchmaker. That can’t be a good omen for my love life. It practically spells disaster.

_freefromfreedom:_ Here is my suggestion… next time you see your idiotic potential significant other, whether the two of you are alone or not, you be the one to ask him. In your case, there’s a seventy-five percent chance of acquiring a date.

_sightsetonthesky:_ How do you figure that?

_freefromfreedom:_ There are four factors to consider. The first two are that he is either interested in you or he is not; the second two are that you will either be alone or in a group when you ask him. That leads to four different situations. Of those four, the only one in which he would reject you would be the one where you talk alone and he isn’t interested. Even if he isn’t interested, he wouldn’t turn you down in front of your peers.

_freefromfreedom: G_ oing by that, if a date is what you’re after, I would advise you to ask him when you’re with a group of people. It’s failsafe.

_sightsetonthesky:_ Most people would call that manipulation.

_freefromfreedom:_ Those are the people sitting by themselves at home having affairs with their pillows.

Darcy would be ashamed to know Jane had said that (the details of her dismal, lackluster social life were things better kept to herself) and would most likely subject her to a ten-minute-long tirade if she ever found out. In all honesty, Jane wouldn’t blame her if she did. What had she been thinking?

_freefromfreedom:_ Ask him.

_freefromfreedom:_ Just a suggestion.

But before she could respond, there was a soft beep as he logged out. And as usual, Jane was left staring at the inactive hyperlink that had been his name.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Jane sat at a small table outside a coffee shop drinking a latte. People roamed the sidewalks, but she stared unseeingly into the distance, half-listening to Darcy as she inspected the contents of Jane’s cup.

“They drew a tree in your drink.”

“I think it’s supposed to be a Christmas tree.”

“Who draws a Christmas tree in the middle of August? It’s the hottest month of the year. He should’ve drawn a swimming pool.” Darcy took a sip of her iced mocha (courtesy of the Bank of Jane Foster because, even though Jane’s bank account was covered in spider webs, she at least had a _paying_ job) and poked at the offending drink again. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Why would I?”

“This might come as a surprise since you tend to be kind of a hermit and a slave to work, but Christmas is usually in December. There’s not even a holiday in August.”

Jane didn’t even blink. “The twenty-sixth is Women’s Equality Day.” There it was again, her propensity for random and irrelevant facts.

“It’s not always a bad thing to be dominated sometimes, if you know what I mean.” In her peripheral vision, she noticed Darcy try to lean into her line of sight without having to actually get up. She didn’t succeed, but she got close enough to force Jane to focus elsewhere. “ _Do_ you know what I mean? When was the last time you got laid?”

Apparently, Jane’s love life (or lack thereof) was a popular item of discussion in both the internet and real world.

“The fifteenth is Relaxation Day.”

“Tell that to my boss. Oh, wait… that’s you.” Darcy settled back in the chair. “Keep that in mind next week.”

“Today is National S’mores Day.”

“Seriously? Why the hell are we drinking coffee when we could be eating chocolate and marshmallows that have been melted and smashed between two graham crackers? We should be getting _that_ as a paid holiday instead of Labor Day. A s’more is the gift that keeps on giving. You get to enjoy it once when you eat it and twice when you lick the gooey bits off your fingers. If you’re creative, it could even spice up the bedroom. Drizzle a bit of the chocolate on the guy’s chest and you get to enjoy it a third time. Hey, maybe you should try that! It couldn’t hurt, right? Jane? Are you even listening?”

But Jane was too focused on the figure across the street. It had taken her a moment to realize what she was staring at, but when she did… even from the back, the shoulder-length blonde hair and ridiculously attractive amount of muscles was unmistakable.

It was Thor.

And he was alone.

And she was crossing the street (with an annoying suggestion replaying in her head) before she was able to convince herself otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr](http://stalrua.tumblr.com/)?
> 
> We can obsess over all things Marvel-related together!


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